


Three Nutcrackers

by knittycat99



Series: The Music and the Mirror [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:56:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Kurt isn't dancing anymore, holidays at the Hummel-Puckerman house still revolve around The Nutcracker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Nutcrackers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure I've ever written something this fluffy. Happy Holidays! Enjoy!

**The First**

“Are you _sure_ it’s a good idea?” Noah asks Kurt, voice low so Ava doesn’t overhear them.  “She’s barely three.” 

“Ginger promised she’d take care of her.  She doesn’t have to dance, she just has to wear a party dress and look adorable.”

Noah stirs the taco meat and glances over to the living room.  Ava is sitting cross legged on the carpet, still in her leotard from her creative movement class.  She’s waggling her fingers at Duncan in his bouncy seat, singing to him.  “I don’t think that’s a problem,” Noah says, catching Kurt’s eye and tilting his head toward the kids. 

_Eensy eensy ‘pider,_ Ava sings, pausing to blow a renegade curl out of her eyes.  Duncan untwists his scowl and giggle-snorts at her.  “Eeeeew!  Papaaaaaaa, Dunkie ‘pitted at me!”

On cue, Duncan throws his little arms in the air and screams.

“As long as nobody expects Duncan to be in the ballet too, I think it’ll be okay,” Kurt says, running over to scoop Duncan up, starting the bounce-and-sway that has a 50/50 chance of working to soothe him.  “Duncan doesn’t like Tchaikovsky.”

**The Last**

“Oh, Papa, thank _god_ you’re here,” Ava sighs dramatically when Noah enters the dressing room.  She’s got her makeup case in one hand and is dragging a folding chair screeching across the tile in the other.  “I need help with my hair.”

Ava’s already fully made up and dressed, except for her hair.  Her pale blue tutu puffs out around her when she flops into the chair, and she shoves her hands into the pocket of the oversized sweatshirt she’s wearing 

“Does Dad know you stole his sweatshirt?” he asks, tugging the elastic off the end of her braid.  “And you do your hair for class every day.  How come you need my help _now_?”

“It’s tradition, Papa!  You _always_ do my hair for me.  You have since that first year.”

Noah works a wide-tooth comb through from the ends of her hair to the crown, misting it as he goes with water from a spray bottle to make the frizzy bits smooth out.  “Your dad never has gotten the hang of your hair.  I got so much practice with Aunt Sarah, I don’t even think about it anymore.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that Dad’s stuck with Duncan and the other boys, then.”

She sits, still and quiet, while Noah works.  He’s just finishing up, one last coating of hairspray and a little crown of blue flowers, when the stage manager calls from the hall _fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes, please.  Fifteen minutes until places for Act I._

Noah takes Ava's hand.  "Come on, lovey.  Let's find your dad and brother."

They find Kurt and Duncan in the wings, stage right.  Duncan is fidgety, smoothing his hands over the midnight blue velvet of his costume, knickers and a pint-sized formal jacket.  Ava wraps an arm around his shoulders and whispers to him as the wings fill around them; the only thing Noah hears is Ava telling him he’s going to be amazing, just as the overture begins.

Ava doesn’t go on until midway through the party scene, so she leans against Noah, humming along while they watch Duncan lead the other boys in a pretend battle.  “This is my last Nutcracker,” Ava says while the little girls are rocking their dolls. 

“Oh.”  Noah doesn’t know what to say.  Ava’s been dancing since she learned to walk; Kurt likes to say that it’s in her bones, even if it’s not in her genetics the way it is with Duncan. 

“I haven't told Dad yet.  It’s not that I don’t love to dance.  I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it.  But I just don’t love it like they do.”  She nods at Duncan, racing around the stage with a cardboard sword, and Kurt unconsciously marking steps with his hands. 

“What are you going to do instead?”

Ava mimes playing her flute.  “Music.  I really want to give it a chance.”

Noah hugs her tight, careful not to smudge her makeup.  “Whatever you want to do, Dad and I will support you.  It’s always been your choice to make.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you stay, if you didn’t really want to?”

Ava stares at the stage.  “He wasn’t ready yet.”

“Duncan?”

“Yeah.  He- don’t you _see_ it, Papa?  He needs this to breathe, but he’s been scared.  I had to wait until he knew he could do this by himself.”

The music changes and Ava steps away from Noah to take her position with the girl dancing the clown doll.  “He’s ready now?” he asks, anxious to hear more about both of his kids.  He’s reminded of the ways he and Sarah existed in a world just off to the side of the space their Ma occupied.

Ava takes a breath, stiffens her body, and the man playing Drosselmeyer picks her up around the waist and carries her onstage.

“He’s ready now?” he asks again, even though nobody is there to hear, or to answer him.

Drosselmeyer winds the imaginary key on Ava’s back and she jerks to life.  She stands there, artificial smile pasted on her face, arms at stiff angles, ready to move.  Drosselmeyer waves his hand over her head. 

She takes off, flying across the stage.

Noah just smiles to himself.  She’s ready, and so is Duncan.

**The First, Again**

Noah leans against the wall outside the boys’ dressing room, his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.  “Dad’s in there with him now, but he’s freaking out.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Ava cries over the noise, voices fading and street sounds growing louder.  “It’s not like I’m the one who made the train late."

“I know, lovey.”

"I'm getting into a cab now.  They’re still in intermission?”

“Yeah, barely.”  The five minute call had echoed through the corridors well over a minute ago.  “Do you think you’ll make it?”

“Not for his first entrance, but I’ll be there in time for the pas de deux.  Can I talk to him?”

Noah knows he should say no, but he has seen, better than Kurt ever has, the unique relationship between Ava and Duncan.  It’s gone beyond typical sibling stuff; they’ve been like little soulmates since Duncan was born.  If anyone can talk Duncan out of his anxiety, Ava can.

He doesn’t knock, just opens the dressing room door and shoves the phone in.  “Duncan.  Talk to your sister.”

Duncan snatches it out of his hand.  “Sissy?” he says, low, with a scowl at both Noah and Kurt.  “Sissy, I need you here.  I don’t understand why they picked me.  I’m just a first year.  I don’t think a first year has _ever_ played the Cavalier.”

Noah can’t hear Ava’s response, but he watches Duncan’s shoulders uncurl from around his ears, and he tugging at the hem of his costume. 

“Thank you,” Kurt says into the sleeve of Noah’s suit jacket.  “She’s always been the best at calming him.”

Noah gazes around the dressing room.  “Does it feel any different, on this side of it?”

Kurt shrugs.  “What, the teacher side or the parent side?”

“The parent side.”

“Honey, _everything_ feels different on the parent side of it.  How do you feel when we see Ava play, or debut a new composition?”

“I wonder how the hell we managed to raise kids this talented.”

“Exactly.”  Kurt laughs.  “I’m proud of him, but I’m a little surprised that it’s _this_ part that’s starting his career.”

“Why?” 

“Well,” Kurt says with a smirk, “Duncan never has liked Tchaikovsky.”


End file.
